Extraordinary
by Dramatricks
Summary: Why does Brittany want to be extraordinary?


Extraordinary

_1__st__ period_ – _English_

If there was ever an award for Dumbest, Longest, Most Annoying and Completely Pointless Book Ever, Santana was pretty sure that _The Once and Future King_ would get it. As Mr. Allen droned on endlessly about knights and Arthur and Guinevere, Santana took out her phone and sent a quick text to Brittany.

Kill me now.

Seconds later, her phone buzzed.

Later. I have to ask a q.

This made Santana sit up straight and go on the offensive. Brittany's questions could be… well, interesting, to say the least, and Santana was always on guard for anyone that might even dream of making fun of the blonde cheerleader.

Brittany raised her hand, and Mr. Allen sighed, saying, "Yes, Brittany?"

"So, the knights of the square table—"

"_Round_."

"Round table, they protected Arthur's kingdom, right?"

"Yes?" He wasn't quite sure where the question was going, and the rest of the class snickered. Except for Santana, who turned around and glared at them.

"Okay," Brittany said, chewing on the end of the pencil, then spitting out the eraser. "Oops. Okay, then, so… who protects Arthur?"

"I'm not sure I follow you."

Brittany rolled her eyes, as if her train of thought should be obvious. "Arthur protects the kingdom, his knights of the round table protect his kingdom… but who protects Arthur?"

Mr. Allen drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk. "Well, the knights do, Brittany. That's why he _has_ knights. To not just protect the kingdom, but to protect him and his family."

"Oh." Brittany nodded, seeming to be satisfied with this answer.

"Okay, then, moving on – when Lancelot—" He trailed off, seeing Brittany's hand shoot up in the air. "Yes, Brittany?"

"How do you get to be a knight?"

"Maybe by not being a dumbass?" Santana turned and punched Puck in the arm. "Ow!"

"Enough, you two." Mr. Allen stood up, the book in his hand, and surveyed Brittany. "Well, back then you had to be a fantastic soldier. The best of the best."

"And now?"

"Now?" Mr. Allen asked blankly. Brittany nodded. "Um… I guess you have to be a great soldier, or a fantastic singer, or a great writer, something like that. You'd have to be pretty extraordinary."

"Oh." Santana was surprised to see that Brittany looked really, really disappointed. There were no more questions, and Mr. Allen moved on. For the rest of the class, her friend didn't even look up from her desk.

_Glee practice – 1:00 p.m._

"Mr. Schuester?"

Mr. Schuester seemed surprised to hear Brittany's voice, but stopped telling his story about meeting Beyonce once in a New York department store.

"Yes, Brittany."

Brittany tilted her head, thinking. "Who protects singers?"

"Protects singers?"

"Yeah. Like Beyonce."

"Here we go again," Quinn muttered, and Santana balled up a piece of paper and bullseyed her in the head. Quinn stuck her tongue out; Santana flipped her off.

"Ladies, ladies," Schuester said, waving them off. "Well, Brittany," he thought for a moment. "I guess they'd have an entourage. With, like, bodyguards I guess."

"Oh. Okay." Brittany smiled cheerfully.

"So, anyway, I was there looking for a present for my mom, and out of the corner of my eye I see—"

"Mr. Schuester?"

The class groaned, including Santana, if she was being honest, a little bit on the inside. Brittany seemed to have a new obsession.

"Yes, Brittany."

"How do you get to be a bodyguard?"

"Well, you don't have to have brains, so you'd be perfect, Brittany."

Mr. Schuester hooked an arm around Santana's waist, pulling her away from Puck's general direction. He sat her down in front of Brittany again with a warning finger held up. Seeing that she wasn't going to move, he shook his head.

"You'd have to be a police officer, Brittany, or someone really strong, someone who had a background in taking care of people. You'd have to be pretty extraordinary, I guess."

Once again, Brittany was silent, and once again, she didn't speak for the rest of the practice.

_7__th__ period – Government_

"So, as soon as she realized what was going on, Mrs. Kennedy climbed to the back of the car and stretched out her hand, trying to reach one of the Secret Service men running behind—"

Brittany's hand shot up in the air.

"Oh, my god." Puck laid his head on his desk, covering it with his arms.

"Yes, Brittany?" Mrs. Wilkes said.

"So, the secret service protects the president?"

"Yes…"

"And how do you get to be part of the secret service?"

Puck held up his hands as Santana shot him a look. "I got nothin' this time."

"You'd have to be part of the FBI, I think. Lots of training, lots of specialized information… you'd have to be—"

"I know, I know," Brittany sighed, and Santana thought she could see tears in her friend's eyes. "'Extraordinary.'"

_2:45 a.m. – Brittany's bedroom_

She woke up to a strange sound. Santana blinked, thinking it was just a dream, but as she reoriented to her surroundings – Brittany's room, in Brittany's bed – she realized she wasn't dreaming. Next to her, Brittany was crying.

"Britt?" Santana turned on her side, facing the girl's back. "Brittany, what is it? Did you dream that Finn was a dragon again?"

"He's a really ugly dragon," Brittany sniffled. "But no."

Santana scooted closer and wrapped an arm around Brittany's waist, pulling the girl to her. She dropped a kiss on the nape of Brittany's neck. "What is it, baby?"

No one really knew that she and Brittany were lovers, though Santana knew that at least Rachel and Quinn suspected. All anyone really knew, beyond their suspicions, was that when it came to Brittany, Santana was _fierce_. If you upset Brittany, you upset Santana, and you did _not_ want to upset Santana.

"You protect me," Brittany said, hiccupping. She turned over on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, I do," Santana smiled, kissing her cheek. "And I love protecting you."

"But who protects _you_, San?"

Santana drew back a little, surprised. "I… protect myself, I guess," she said slowly.

"Nobody protects _themselves_," Brittany said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "King Arthur had nights, singers have ent…enter… bodyguards, and the president has his secret service dudes. I have you, but… what do you have? I can't protect you. I'm not _extraordinary_."

Santana felt a strange, warm sensation run through her body as suddenly it all became clear, all of the questions from Brittany that day. Tears flooded her eyes, and she sniffed, sitting against the headboard and pulling Brittany up into her arms.

"Brittany."

"Yeah."

"_Te amo_."

Brittany smiled. "_Ik hou van je_."

I love you.

Brittany snuggled herself closer into Santana's arms, closing her eyes.

"_Para siempre._" She held up her pinky.

Brittany linked, squeezing gently. "_Voor eeuwig_."

Forever.

Santana dipped her head and kissed Brittany slowly, feeling for the first time in her life as if her heart would burst.

"That's all the protection I need," she whispered as Brittany drifted off to sleep in her arms. "And that's extraordinary."


End file.
